


The World is an Imperfect Place

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe- Canon Divergence, Breakfast Club AU, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Hogwarts Era, Hufflepuff Lily, M/M, Ravenclaw Remus, Slytherin Sirius, Strong Language, mentions of abuse, mild drug use, period related homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 09:46:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6699979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sentenced to a full Saturday in detention, Remus Lupin must deal with the consequences of his actions, whilst trying to stay under the radar.  Don't let anyone know about you, son.  His father's only words of advice before allowing him to attend Hogwarts in spite of his condition.  But in this detention--meeting these people--everything changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World is an Imperfect Place

**Author's Note:**

> Standard Breakfast Club AU with some changes. Obviously Umbridge wasn't there during the Marauders' Era, but she's useful for this fic. It'll be about three chapters or so, I think? I'll follow the general plot-line of the film, but not exactly. It'll still get fairly gritty the way the film is, so be prepared for that.

Remus stared at the classroom door, his heart thumping in his chest. He could still hear the words of his parents’ letter echoing in his head. How could he do this? How could he let this happen? Didn’t he understand what was at risk? “Fly under the radar, Remus. You know what that means, don’t you?” his father had asked him.

His fingers trembled as he closed them round the strap of his rucksack. Ink bottles clinked together, parchment ruffled.

He reached for the door handle and pulled it open. Grabbing at his silver and blue tie, he adjusted it as he always did, then bowed his head and went in.

The classroom was empty, presently. No Umbridge, no other students. Surely he wasn’t the only one being given detention on a Saturday. His crime had been…well. As far as misbehaving went, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. He’d just been…late. Late, and that Slytherin had seen and well…

Remus swallowed and took the first set of desks to the right of the professor’s podium, set his rucksack down at his feet, and crossed his ankles. He pushed his fingers together, fixed his gaze ahead, and waited, determined not to make eye-contact with anyone.

It was eight hours. Eight hours and it would be over and he’d be far more careful and it wouldn’t happen again.

Same thing he’d promised his parents.

It wouldn’t happen again.

He could recall the lectures the moment they knew Dumbledore had his name down. “You can’t make friends, Remus. It’s not safe. It’s better this way. I know it’s hard son but you can’t…you can’t…” It had been his mantra.

A mantra he used to swallow down the jealousy when he saw Potter and his mates laughing, arms slung round each other’s shoulders, being congratulated about Quidditch matches or charms marks. When the others in his own house would get together for Hogsmeade outings or talking about dates or…

Anything. Anything at all.

He was just Remus.

Nothing more.

…nothing less.

His thoughts were interrupted when the door swung open again, and of all people, King Gryffindor James Potter strolled through the door. He gave the room a haughty, arrogant sweep of his eyes, pushing his glasses up his nose with his middle finger before grabbing the chair next to Remus.

“D’you mind?”

Remus shook his head.

Potter dropped his own pack next to his feet and lounged back a bit. “Rotten luck, eh? Hogsmeade weekend and everything.”

Remus swallowed thickly. Potter had never said two words to him before. Ever. In spite of having several lessons, he’d always been distracted by the attention his House fawned upon him. Not that he was a bad person, or a troublemaker, really. Potter had been an exemplary student, beating everyone out in nearly every class except DADA where Remus held top marks. His parents hadn’t been entirely pleased about that one. Getting top marks meant earning more attention.

He was supposed to be nothing more than average.

Pushing his hands through his curls, Remus reached down, rubbing the back of his shoulder where his registry mark sat, and tried not to meet Potter’s gaze.

“You reckon we can talk our way out of this? I was supposed to meet Dorcas and…”

“It’s Umbridge,” Remus muttered.

Potter looked a bit ill. “Bollocks. McGonagall must be really brassed off then.”

“Or bullied into it,” Remus said softly. He’d once overheard—quite by accident—how much Umbridge enjoyed sitting detentions with students. Rumours went round saying…well, Remus didn’t put much stock into rumours, but he certainly hoped what he had heard was not true. At all.

The door swung open again, and James’ jaw dropped as the redheaded Lily Evans strolled in. Everyone knew her. She was just barely below Potter in her marks, quite fierce indeed for a Hufflepuff and several times Remus thought she ought to be in Gryffindor.

She gave Potter a passing glance as she shifted her rucksack onto the floor, adjusted her yellow and black tie, then clasped her hands on the desk.

“Well well…Evans. Head Girl.”

“Potter,” she said very stiffly.

“I can’t even imagine what you did to get yourself landed in a detention,” he crowed, leaning toward her. “Care to share with the class.”

“Sod off,” she said, her face still tipped down.

“Not very nice today, are we?” Potter said and chuckled under his breath.

Remus wondered how they possibly got on heading up the Prefects together as they were both Head Boy and Head Girl, but it was becoming clear they had absolutely no relationship at all. Which might be why the prefects were such shite this year.

But not his place to say.

Especially as moments later Remus’ heart was in his throat, threatening to choke him to death.

The door swung open and in swaggered the Prince of Slytherin himself, Sirius Black. Notorious in the school, he was, for being both a Black and holding the record for most detentions. He was in a way posh, but nothing like his uptight family as he’d rebelled against them and had been displaced as Heir—something he loudly proclaimed after a rather uncouth Howler in the Great Hall over breakfast one morning.

He came in, light in his narrow, grey eyes, nose in the air, a smirk playing at his mouth. There was no denying Sirius was gorgeous. Everyone knew it. Sirius Black was either envied or wanted—often times both. He wasn’t wearing robes to detention, rather he had on muggle jeans, a ripped t-shirt with some muggle band printed across the top, and a jacket with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His wand was tucked behind his ear, his hair floppy, fringe hanging elegantly across his forehead, sitting stylishly near his shoulders. 

He glanced at James, letting out a small laugh and shaking his head, before his eyes raked over Evans, then lingering for a long while over Remus before they cut to the empty seat just behind the Head Boy. He winked, then flung himself into the seat, bringing his heavy motorbike boot to rest at the edge, the chain clinking.

Remus bit the inside of his cheek and told himself not to stare. ‘Don’t you dare, Lupin,’ he instructed himself. ‘Don’t you bloody dare look back.’

He felt a puff of air across the back of his neck, and in his periphery, he saw Sirius leaning forward far over the top of his desk, smirking. “Never seen you here before. Ravenclaw. Prefect.”

Remus clenched his jaw and chose not to say anything. After a moment, Potter snapped his head round. “Leave him alone, Black. Bother someone else.”

Sirius flung himself back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

The door swung wide again, and Remus held his breath, thinking it was Umbridge. She terrified him, truly. Only Dumbledore knew Remus’ secret, but Umbridge made it no secret she hated people like him. She hated monsters. Half-breeds. Dark creatures.

He’d seen what she was capable of at the Ministry, and to be sat her at her mercy now…

Only it wasn’t Umbridge. It was another Gryffindor—though not a friend of Potter’s. His hair hung low in his face his robes too big for his body, tucked over his knuckles, and he kept his face tipped down as he rushed past everyone, slinking into a seat.

Sirius snorted, glancing back. “Freak.”

“Shut up,” Remus said, the word striking a chord in him.

Sirius let out a low whistle. “Shut up, he says? So the perfect prefect speaks, does he?”

Remus wanted to retort, but he’d already said enough. He clenched his fingers on the top of the desk and fixed his gaze straight ahead. Moments later, the door swung open, and Umbridge entered. She was in her usual, soft pink robes, hair perfectly coiffed, face twisted into a smile which would have been disarming on anyone, were it not for her cold eyes which gave Remus shivers.

She glanced round the room, hands clasped in front of her, and her gaze lingered on Sirius. “Hem hem. I would like to thank you,” she said in her sickly-sweet voice, “for arriving on time. We will be together for the next eight hours, where I expect the five of you to think well, and think hard, on the err of your ways.”

Sirius, meanwhile, had pulled out his wand, and had conjured a small scrap of paper to do a little dance. It was quite charming, actually, if Remus was letting himself think about it.

Which he absolutely was not.

“You will stay in your seats. There will be no talking.” Her eyes narrowed on the dancing paper, and as she advanced on Sirius, she flicked her wand and the small paper immediately erupted into flames, dropping ash on the floor. “You will not sleep,” she added.

Sirius looked at her, almost defiantly, but said nothing as she took a step back.

“I trust you all brought ink and quill. You will be writing lines for me today. An essay, three feet, on why you are in the detention, and what you feel you have learnt from it. And,” she said, too sweetly, “who you think you are, and who you think you will become.”

“Three feet,” Sirius muttered, kicking his feet up on the desk.

Umbridge gave a vicious flick of her wand, and he was flung back down to the ground, grunting like he was being held in place. “Am I clear, Mr Black?”

“Absolutely,” Sirius muttered.

“Good.” She turned away. “I think you all need to think about whether or not you’d like to return to one of my detentions.”

“I can answer that now, professor,” Evans said, rising halfway from her chair. “I will be sure to never, ever…”

“That’s quite enough, Miss Evans,” Umbridge said. “Hem hem. Now. I will be in the office there,” she pointed a pink polished nail at the door behind the desk. “Door open. Listening to every noise. There will be punishments, and they will be severe, if you disobey.” She smiled again, and Remus felt his stomach sink. “Any questions?”

The whole of the room shook their heads, and as she turned, Remus heard a throat clearing.

“Actually, I have one. Do you get your fashion advice from the flavours at Florean’s shop? Because you look like a walking sundae.”

Remus winced, expecting something fierce. Instead Umbridge smiled. “I will happily give you the answer to that Mr Black, next Saturday.”

Sirius pulled a face, but said nothing.

Umbridge stepped back. “I am a reasonable witch, but if you play with fire, Mr Black, please expect to be burnt.”

With that, she turned and walked into her office.

The moment she was out of earshot, Sirius groaned. “That cow, is a brownie-hound.”

Remus’ eyes widened. “A what?” he whispered.

James almost laughed. Almost.

“A shit-eater,” Sirius said with a wicked grin. He tucked his wand back behind his ear, and put his hands behind his head. “She looks like a walking advert for Pudifoots.”

They fell silent for a while, until there was a tapping, and one by one, everyone turned to see Peter tapping his quill on the edge of the desk. He stared back, almost defiant, and said nothing.

Remus all-but groaned, and put his face in his hands. He just wanted this to be over. How he’d allowed himself to be so stupid, so vulnerable. To let someone…to let them…

He stopped the thought from carrying on.

“So, Head Boy Potter. I’m surprised to see you in here. I figured with you having your lips firmly planted against Dumbledore’s arse, you’d have talked your way out of it. Or at least had daddy write the school to get you out of it.”

“Sod off, Black,” James muttered.

“Best to ignore him,” Remus muttered.

Sirius snickered. “I just thought what with you being Quidditch hero… I mean they let you get away with the mess last month, didn’t they? In Potions. When your little mate…”

“Fucking shut up,” James hissed.

“Honestly,” Remus said, glancing over at Evans who looked like she wanted no part in this. “He’s only trying to get a rise out of you. Ignore him.”

“Ignore him,” Sirius mocked, leaning forward and catching Remus’ eye. He sized him up, in an almost lecherous way, and his teeth shone over his bottom lip as he grinned. “Am I getting a rise out of you, Lupin?” 

Remus was almost startled that Black knew his name at all, and he flushed.

“Maybe I am,” Black taunted. “I bet you couldn’t ignore me if you tried.”

“Shut up, Black,” Potter growled. “You want to fuck with someone, fuck with me.”

“Not my type,” Black said loftily, and winked at Remus before settling back down. “Is he your type, Potter? Lupin’s sweet curls, nice arse? I bet you sneak into the Ravenclaw dorms at night and take his hot…”

At that, Potter turned, brandishing his wand right between Black’s eyes. “Shut the hell up, Black.”

Black merely threw his head back and laughed, not even reaching for his own wand. The worst of it was, Remus knew Black was most definitely a match for Potter. He’d seen them together in DADA, and in duelling. None were better than each other, but Remus would put a galleon on Black mostly because it was obvious, he had nothing to lose.

“You a homophobe? Is that why you’re so offended? Or just afraid of admitting you’re queer.”

“What I am is none of your business, and you’ll leave Lupin alone. Am I clear?” James’ voice was low and dangerous.

“It’s the scars, innit?” Black continued, and Remus felt his face go hot. “You know the whole school talks about them, right? Wondering, did he get insult a Hippogriff? Get in wrong with one of Hagrid’s barmy animals? What is it, Lupin? Share with the class.”

“I’m about to hex you,” Potter growled. “If you can’t keep your fat mouth shut.”

“Leave it,” Remus said. “I don’t even care.”


End file.
